In Time
by zarabithia
Summary: A future glimpse of Trip makes T'Pol reflect on past choices


In Time

**Rating**: PG

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anyone in the Star Trek universe, or any of the characters. No copyright is intended, so please don't sue me. 

**Spoilers**: Lots. "E2" is the episode most heavily discussed, but T'Pol's entire Season 3 arc is discussed. 

**Summary**: A future choice glimpse of Trip makes T'Pol reflect on past choices. 

**Codes**: T/T'P, Extremely Angsty. 

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"Hey, keep in touch, okay? Now that we're out of the Expanse, it's gotta be easier to get our hands on a palm tree."

Those were the last words Trip and I ever spoke to one another in person. In the ten years that have come and gone since those words were uttered, I have spent so much time and effort attempting to repent for my lapse in logic that I had nearly forgotten them. 

But now, standing in a crowded Starfleet space station waiting for the ship that will carry back to the home planet I retreated to ten years ago, I am confronted with the presence of the very man that spoke them, and their memory reasserts itself with a vengeance. It was the sound of his familiar voice that first alerted me to his presence. Though many aspects of my Vulcanness have been challenged, my hearing is not one of them. They are still. . . "good ears," as Trip once described them. 

Discontinuing our relationship was justified. Following my disgraceful exit from the Expanse, I had no choice but to take refuge on my home world. I went in search of the cleansing rituals as well as a repeat participation of the Kohlinar. 

He could not have accompanied me on that journey. His presence would have ruptured the carefully constructed sanctuary of logic I had sought in an attempt to escape from the brink of insanity brought on by my time on _Enterprise_. Not only due to the experiences of the Expanse, but from the mental intrusions of Tolaris and Silik, the drain of the Pa'nar Syndrome, my attachment to Commander Tucker, and my friendships with the Captain and Dr. Phlox. Thus, while he was quite persistent in his efforts to keep in touch, I ignored each and every communiqué. To most humans, such actions would seem heartless. But what other course of action could I have taken? Besides, I had consoled myself, Vulcans are supposed to be insensitive. To be _sensitive _would be yielding to the emotionalism that I strove to suppress. 

My logic was flawless, but my actions could not have been in greater error. I realize that now, as I watch him. For the emotions – the attachment I felt for him – has not diminished. 

Though the sound of his voice alerted me to his presence, he remains oblivious of mine. With the concentration he is displaying to his companion, I suspect very little is capable of distracting his attention from her. 

I do not know her name, nor do I know how long she has been his companion. However, I can easily ascertain the intensity of his emotions for her, just by observing the manner in which he gazes at her. His head moves in harmonious accord with hers, his mouth is curved into a smile which stretches across his face, and his expression is one of rapt adoration. 

I was once the focus of the same expression. 

As he begins to turn his head, I quickly move behind the nearest bulkhead, in order to circumvent his detection. If his mannerisms are any indication, my mere presence could not interrupt his contentedness level. Indeed, perhaps it is for that reason that I will not allow myself to face him. I do not believe I could handle observing Trip in such a state up close. Before my gaze becomes completely obstructed, I observe a small blond haired child standing to the left of Trip. Though I do not see the child clearly, I do observe the similar hair and an unmistakably similar nose.

As my back seeks comfort against the coolness of the bulkhead, I think of Lorian. 

_"Tell my parents I'll see them soon."_

I have thought of Lorian often in the past decade as I have sought to regain my Vulcan nature. He has become a symbol of my life that could have been, as well as a life that used to be. When my thoughts dwell upon the half-human son I shall never have, I cannot help but doubt the ultimate wisdom of my decision to become re-devoted to the Path. 

Yet, when I think of Lorian, I cannot help but also think of his mother. I remember clearly the devotion that was displayed upon my alternate future self's face. I believe her words were intended to spare me of the degree of pain and frustration she had experienced. She could not have known that her words would have had the exact opposite effect than they were intended to have. 

It was her adamant declaration that I would "never fully recover" that drove me to Vulcan shortly after our exit from the Expanse. While Phlox was an excellent and capable physician, he was not knowledgeable in the area of Vulcan mental techniques. I believed that returning to my home world was my only chance to become truly Vulcan again. As content as my alternate self may have been, I believed I could become whole again only by completely recovering from the Trellium-D addiction. 

I would not become the Vulcan that had foretold of my future. I would not become one that so willingly embraced emotions that I would _smile _and engage in human colloquialisms freely.

"_There is a human expression: follow your heart."_

It would make sense for a human to come up with such an expression. Besides being the highly emotional species that they are, they have only one heart to contend with. Surely it can only pull them in one direction.

Vulcans have two hearts. Since my initial contact with _Enterprise__, _each of those hearts have been determined to follow a separate course. How can I "follow my heart" if the two things my heart wants are incompatible?

It is clear to me, even now, as I depend upon the station's infrastructure for support, that my desires for Trip and my dedication to the Path were not harmonious. My alternate self may have believed him to be a suitable "outlet" for my emotions, but she acknowledged the truth more accurately when she talked of his role as a catalyst in stirring those emotions.

_"The emotions he stirred in me. . . ...were powerful...and frightening."_

Yes, they were frightening. My alternate future self learned to live with them. However, the manner in which she chose to live with them was more frightening than anything Trip ever stirred within me. Her path was so frightening that I chose to retreat to my home planet instead of pursuing the relationship I so very wanted to explore with Trip. 

_"It is possible that had Enterprise not been stranded in the past, I would never have married Trip. But I can't imagine what my life would have been like without him."_

I have come to know a life without him. I also cannot help but believe that my own stubbornness would have been overcome by my desire for Trip, if I had not met my alternate self. If she had not been a living embodiment of the worst trepidation I had about my future at the time, it is quite possible, and very likely, that my willpower would have dissipated. 

Or perhaps my own apprehensions would have controlled me irrespective of meeting her. Perhaps I would have left the relationship with a man so cherished behind because I was fearful of the intensity of my attachment regardless of outside influences.

My efforts were not entirely in vain. Since returning to my home world, and under the guided efforts of the Mind Specialists, I have completely recovered. What Phlox tried to cure with devotion and failed, the Kohlinaru have succeeded at because of expertise. 

Though the option was given to me to have Trip erased from my memory in the same manner that Menos was, I refused to allow it. It would have significantly decreased my recovery time. However, at the time I argued that I could not afford to lose the knowledge of one of Starfleet's finest engineers. 

I wonder today if it sounded as foolish to the Kohlinaru then as it does to me today. 

_"What if my heart doesn't know what it wants?"_

_"It will. In time, it will."_

My alternate self firmly believed in time as the great healer. It occurs to me that she was correct. Time has revealed a great deal to me, namely what I lost in order to regain what I believed to be appropriate Vulcan behavior.

I lost the warmth brought by Trip's touch, the softness of his kiss, and the overwhelming passion in which his physical pleasure manifested itself.

I threw away his affection, which contained a devotion that I had known neither before nor since.

I dispensed the compassion and caring that he is capable of showing when he believes a relationship is worth it. 

I disregarded the enthusiasm with which he greeted the news of the two of us spending our future together. When we encountered our alternate _Enterprise, _Trip's voice was one of such fervent acceptance of the inevitability of our partnership. 

_". . . A traditional Vulcan ceremony. Must have taken me weeks to learn the vows."_

I have no doubt of the difficulty he had in pronouncing the vows. The very fact that he was willing to reinforces the enormity of what I have lost. In my haste to rid myself of human emotions, I exchanged a life with a man who strove to balance my Vulcan heritage with his Human heritage. In so doing, I forced myself to adhere to a strict set of rules that I have never followed as well as others of my kind. Unquestionably, time has revealed that I have sacrificed a contented and pleasurable life with a man I treasured in my effort to reassert my heritage. In a twist of cruel irony, my sacrifice was born out of the strongest emotion of all – fear.

I have lived without Trip for a decade. I do not know why the sensation of loss is as overwhelming as it is today. But at this moment, I can no longer deny what an affection like his was worth. 

It is likely that the intensity of my sorrow may be a result of the unexpectedness of seeing him again, combined with the negative connotation of seeing him with my obvious replacement. 

But I am a Vulcan, once again, though, time has demonstrated that I shall never again be whole. My sacrifice was too great. I cannot help but wonder how my alternate self would respond if she was capable of knowing that the very suffering she sought to help me evade only doubled because of that very help. Given her propensity for emotional displays, she may very well have cried. I greatly understand that urge.

But I will not cry. Presently, I will regain control of my emotions and prepare to return to Vulcan, my face as dry as the air of the planet itself. When I stand upon the desert of my home world again, I will revel in the calmness it offers, and seek comfort in the lack of chaos exposure to human threatens to unleash. Perhaps I will make it a priority never to leave the safety of my home world again. The threat of losing everything I sacrificed so much for is far too great.

But when the hot sand of my planet brushes against my tearless face, I will think of palm trees. 

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The End. 


End file.
